spindlewit:

wetland.

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so I said goodbye

for a while now, there’s been a guy, who tried really hard to get to know me. he called me every night and we’d talk for hours until we felt tired and went to sleep. sometimes we sang and I liked that a lot. I didn’t dare to let myself believe it was more until it continued to happen a full month in. Then, I let myself fall. I got used to calls, and having someone to talk to, and having someone to share my hopes, dreams, fears and insecurities. for the first time in a while, I felt heard. I felt special.

he said, I see you as a friend.

and for a few weeks, I thought I was okay. I pushed my feelings aside and I worked harder at being a better friend. but work got busy, and he started going out with whoever he was seeing again. as I teared all the way home, I thought to myself. I can’t keep lying that I’m okay with this. I’m not okay with this. I’m not okay with prioritising this person over everything else in my life. I’m not okay with pretending like I don’t want more. I’m not okay. 

I want to love and be loved. I want each day to end with someone who’s going to meet me with wide, open arms, and tell me that everything will be dandy. I want to feel the butterflies from looking into eyes which light up, and feel the warmth of a loving embrace. I want to fall asleep to a voice that’s going to stay, and promise to work on a happy future with me. and I want to wake up to a smile that I can get used to. I want to slip my fingers into home.

so I said goodbye. I sobbed and let the tears fall. saying goodbye to things which bring me joy are difficult. it is painful to let go. but it is hurting me tremendously to hold on.

and with all the love and faith and courage in the world, I tell myself that I deserve better. I piece my broken heart back together with all the beauty that is around me. I am brave for speaking up, and being vulnerable, and being kind, and I am loved for being fearlessly myself. my heart aches to its tendons but it is a soreness I now recognise as strength. 

(via real)

I wish I wasn’t so forgettable… I’d never know what I meant to him. He was a bright beam of sunshine through the insecurities of my legal career, and a salve on that eternal sense of unbelonging. The height of my romantic aspirations dissolved into a mere memory that I gently entangle from my consciousness. I can’t even tell what part is heart and what part is brain. It’s a throbbing pain in my chest that I simply cannot ignore. It’s the sounds and smells and sights in my head when I close my eyes and try to sleep.

Sometimes, it feels as though I’m trying to keep him alive in my head, just so I wouldn’t forget. As if forgetting would negate the bliss it gave me. I know I shouldn’t stick a foot stubbornly in the past, but it is fearful to look ahead and let go. I am the only one who remembers now. If I forget, would that make our love unreal? If something was real, could it be forgotten? I like to consider myself fearless, but I am ghastly terrified of forgetting you. In cold feet at the possibility that maybe, just maybe, we were nothing, and I’d lived a lie that met its natural subservience to the truth.

It does not make sense. 2 years on, I should be achieving more in my life, I should be brave enough to put myself out there. You should have become a small part of my heart because, well, you haven’t been there through all of my milestones. On the contrary, trying to get over you has paved conversations which are etched in my heart. People can be so kind when they see someone hurting. My pain has forced me to invest trust entirely in myself, and I am much, much better for it.

So objectively, being without you has granted me perspectives and growth much more than being with you ever would. It is good for me. My logical lawyer brain says that this has forced me through an extended period of exponential growth. I can see it for myself. There is a tenacity in my soul that pushes on despite the searing pain that doesn’t seem to stop or heal.

So I keep going. And every night as I lie in bed, I pray and pray that someday I’d find somebody I can love just as much.

(via bled)

(Source: be-happy-and-enjoy-the-life, via danger)

When I’d discovered you were determined to forget me, I wept. I let myself ugly sob, and I let myself be sad. Someone who had made me incredibly glad to be alive was gone, once again. 

But this time, I was resolute about moving on. Because the world was working for me. The confidence in myself which was hitherto absent, emerged in full force once I started learning, and growing, and genuinely enjoying my life. 

The bottom line is, I cared deeply, and I still do. Instead of holding on, I’ve learnt to let go. It hurt to do so, but it was the right thing to do. I guess if things are really meant to be, they will be. Till then, it’ll do no justice to myself by holding back. I am where I am supposed to be. I will grab it with all my heart and soul. It’s my life to live. It’s my future to curate. It’s all within the palm of my hands. 

(via iloveyou)

At some point, I became so accustomed to being the heartbroken lover that I’ve forgotten how to be myself. When I am alone, my thoughts play through what I could have done better. As if I could rewrite them, somehow in my mind, so that I wouldn’t let a good thing dwindle, slowly but surely, into oblivion. I blame myself a lot for making poor and impulsive decisions, but that is immensely counterproductive. I am not the mistakes I make, I am the sum of how I face up to and rise above the challenges that pave the journey of life.

At the turn of my 24th year on this earth, I want to be free from this cage which I have trapped myself into. It is a vicious cycle of temporal, short-lived bursts of bliss that leave me bumbling and begging. I used to take pride in being a lone-wolf but I have only recently begun to appreciate what that entailed. Being, to be rid from the mourning lover narrative. Being, to stand on my own two feet. To wake up each morning knowing that I may never find true love, and be fully okay with that. Finding true love in a partner is the dream of course. Finding true love for myself is the necessary pre-requisite.

Most importantly, I want to be kinder. I have become far less open-minded and patient. Standing up for myself does not mean getting angry when things do not go my way. Standing up for myself means walking away when I am being disrespected. Calmly. Anger feels good in the moment but it rarely ever does any good. Same goes for the suffocating sadness that savours my insanity.

I love dwelling in melancholy because that is my comfort zone. But were I to always do that, I would be an unchanging being. Knowing that I have stagnated into a depressed mess does zero justice to the young me, who climbed out of every abyss she’s been thrown into. Did she face tribulation just to succumb to bad relationships? No. My heart aches with a burning passion for life, and I want to live and breathe and be happy even when it’s hard to face the world.

Because right now, the world is going for me. I have stepped out far beyond my comfort zone, and I am closer to being the adult I aspire to be. To be brave enough to push myself further. To take risks, loads of them, and not be afraid of failing. Because I’ve failed, and failed and failed but overcome trial after trial to find a little more myself, and I’d be damned if I gave up now. I’ve come too far to wallow in self-pity. Especially when the misery stems from lovers who fail to value my sincere affections. Contrasted with the everlasting waterfall of love from my friends and family who accept me without question? There’s no reason to be sad when I’ve so much to be grateful for. I want to do them proud, and assure them that they haven’t wasted their listening ears and kind words on deadweight. 

I need to grab this future with all my heart and soul. There will be down days, and days where I feel insignificant, and unloved, but that’s life. I must be kinder to myself on these days. I must learn to be okay with just.. being.

(via overfierce)

(via overfierce)

(via hatin)

Isn’t it funny how a year has passed and so much has happened and yet you stay fresh in my mind. I let myself keep a singular memory of you and me, in our happiest moment. We had our first big fight, and you were hugging me tight like you were so scared to lose me. I watched your eyes pour over my words, line by line, and giggled while you kissed my cheeks with every other breath. When you were done reading my sappy card you hugged me so so close and asked me how I was doing that to your heart. And frankly, I don’t know. I never found out. I only knew that there was the world. and there was you, and there was me, and we were happy. No one has come close to healing the gap of your absence. And thinking about this still makes my heart ache. And thinking about you makes me wonder how and when everything went wrong. I’ve only moved on with sheer grit, determination and a billion bad choices, and yet you sit stubbornly in my heart, a resolute, hardened brick of my unadulterated affection. 

I can’t help feeling broken and I don’t know where to start. I don’t know how to start trusting again, or being vulnerable again, and I only know how to mess things up and I’m always too much feelings and too little brain but can I help it, really? I love the parts of myself that are helplessly romantic. I love the parts of myself that are gentle and loving and kind. I love everything about the contradictions that comprise my being, and I’d be a fool if I let a boy ruin the purest parts of my soul. Because I have the world to give and I want nothing but the same in return. Because I love being too much, and I want everyone to know that I’m hopelessly in love, and I want to be the best lover possible for anybody who appreciates how far I’ve come.  

(via iloveyou)

(Source: saatchiart.com, via love)

(Source: weheartit.com, via hatin)

(via iloveyou)

(via jigglypuffsvevo)

(via real)

(Source: weheartit.com, via real)